James Should Be Arrested
by elevise
Summary: Despite everything, this story is actually quite serious. Anyway, this is just my take on James' and Mary's relationship and how they met and whatnot. I wrote it for a school assignment and it's a little weird, but pretty exciting. Read it! You love it!
1. Chapter 1

I am a twelve year old boy. My name is James Sunderland. I understand that many things are illegal in this town.

Today is Sunday. I am wearing a red dress made out of cotton. I'm not sure if I look pretty. (Not that I'm a transvestite or anything, it's just illegal).

I am also taking a boat dock and stealing it. Some splinters pierce my fingers as I displace it. I wonder if the boats will notice.  
I am downloading music illegally. "flyfleaf1-cassiu" is 50% done. I hate this song and the band, but this is illegal.

I am hijacking a unicorn, socks, and a spaceship. I now have two modes of transport. I now have bright red socks. They all match my dress.

I am drinking Vodka, but I'm not Russian. It does not taste very swell. And I am also gambling away all my money on the bus. The blue sign at the front of the bus says "No Gambling". I keep losing. People scrutinize my red dress. I am still not sure if I look pretty.

I sell drugs to a little girl. She asks me for some snow. She tells me her name is Mary. I didn't know little kids knew drug slang, but she is a very pretty little girl. I get some cash.

I am fighting a drunk man with a mailbox. He loses.

Then I read Twilight. It is a very horrible book. Reading Twilight is actually legal, but it's so bad, it should be a crime. I hate you, Stephenie Meyer.

My name is James Sunderland. I am twelve. I am fishing off the back of a giraffe. I am being a hooker while I fish. This town is named Silent Hill. And many things in this town…are illegal.

The town did not easily forget my crimes. It was all people were talking about. There was a huge ordeal made about it. "We have no idea who this criminal is," they said on the news. The news anchor, who had a toupee, appeared distressed. The whole _town_ seemed distressed. "But the whole town is in an uproar. Although the police have refused to comment, they have released a list of a few suspects, including one James Anderland, a recently escaped convict."

I smiled to myself. My name wasn't James Anderland. I wasn't a convict. They'll never catch me. I turned off the T.V.


	2. Chapter 2

Silent Hill was the name of the town where I met my wife. I went there for vacation when I was twelve and broke a large variety of laws. Somehow, though, I didn't get arrested. I suppose I was just too sneaky for the po-po.

Anyhow, that is where I met my wife, Mary. I sold her some drugs. I thought she was very pretty.

I returned to that town a few years later and saw her again. Wonderfully, she had grown from that little girl that I had sold drugs to into a well-endowed young woman. I came up to her and asked her if she remembered me; I sold her cocaine one fine law-breaking day a few years ago, I said. She beamed at me and nodded, the glint of remembrance clear in her eye. "I've been waiting for you…James," she whispered. Apparently, she had fallen in love with me or something. She gave me a hug. I was confused, but, you know, okay, whatever. I hugged her back. She asked me if I wanted to do something sometime. I said sure.

At that point in time, I was only to be staying in Silent Hill for a week, so we didn't have very many days together, so we hung out practically every day. Of course, what else would I do? I sure wasn't going to be breaking any laws (wink, wink).

We did many wondrous things. We went to a diner and to a party. We went bowling. We made a little movie. It was exceedingly nice to spend time with her.

When I was there, that lovely June, the town of Silent Hill was so beautiful. It was always warm, but never too warm. At night, the crickets would come out and chirp melodiously, and there always seemed to be an almost photo-like quality to everything, everywhere, as if you were looking at a photograph and not real life. And the trees were always swaying, like they were dancing. It was the best week of my life.

On our last night together, Mary and I sat on a wooden bench by Taluca Lake, overlooking the serene water. The stars were out and glinting in the sky and all of space was reflected in those gentle, glorious waves. She was leaning against my shoulder and I had my arm around her. She kissed me.

"I love you, James," she said, gazing into my eyes with those beautiful, beautiful gray pools of grayness. "Let's get married."

What. She was, like, thirteen or something. "What," I said.

She glanced away, smiling childishly. "When I get older," she voiced dreamily.

I guess that was okay. You know, whatever. "Okay," I said, and we kept looking out over the water.

By the next morning, I was gone from that town of Silent Hill yet again. I stared out the car window the whole ride home. I was extremely befuddled about this whole ordeal. Why did I just agree to marry her? I mean, she was fantastic and I liked her, but shouldn't I at least sample more fish in the sea? It's like agreeing to only eat bananas the rest of your life. What about beef jerky? What about bacon? What about mashed potatoes? You would never taste them.

I closed my eyes and thought all the way. In the end, I guessed it was alright.

So we did get married. It was a very simple, traditional ceremony. She wore a white gown, I wore a tuxedo, there were bridesmaids, a best man, a wedding cake, white as a color, flowers, flowers, etc., etc., the whole shebang. It was a very quaint wedding, a very nice one. I was quite happy, but I couldn't help but wonder… why was I doing this? I liked her. I really did. But did I _love_ her? I was unsure. But as soon as I tasted that marble cake and fondant, I forgot completely about my ordeal. And we had our first dance as a husband and wife.

For our honeymoon, we stayed at Lakeview Hotel, in Silent Hill. It overlooked Taluca Lake, where I had once gone fishing off the back of a giraffe, that day when I broke several laws in Silent Hill. There was a piano in the lobby that Mary played when no one was around. She loved to play the piano even though she wasn't very good at it. I never knew she liked to play the piano until then. It actually really bothered me, though. She _really_ wasn't very good at piano at all. She was actually strenuously bad. It was a chore to listen to her, but she was my wife now. What else could I do but listen? So I listened. And we had a good time. As always.

Once, when she finished playing a certain song, she looked at me with a wistful look in her eye and said, "James, this will be our special place from now on, okay? It always will be."

And, of course, I smiled and said "Yes, of course it will be." Because I

was a husband now and what else could I do but agree?

We spent the rest of our days in my hometown. We never went back to Silent Hill together.

But, one day, Mary got sick. We didn't know how it happened, but all of a sudden she just started coughing and told me she felt really horrible. We went to see the doctor, and it turned out that she was very sick. She insisted that she not go to the hospital yet, though, that she would be fine, and I had no choice but to abide by her wishes. I did my best to take care of her. She was fine for a few days, but then she had trouble walking, and, eventually, was bedridden. I asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital now, it seemed really bad, and she said that, yes, she thought it was a good idea. So I drove her down to the hospital and left her in the car while I talked to the receptionist. They immediately came out with a stretcher and took her inside. I stayed for a while and they said they weren't sure if she was going to make it too long, there wasn't too much they could do, but I asked them to keep her alive for a while; they said that would be okay, that would be fine, we'll keep her in a bed, would you like to see her? And so I came to see her and she was crying and she said she ruined everything, she was so sorry, and I just held her and told her it would all be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

She got progressively worse, every time I came to see her. Her face began to get disfigured and she started to smell like she was dying, but I kept her alive because I just couldn't let her go. Every time I visited her, she seemed more and more agitated, but I still kept her alive.

Today, I brought her flowers.

She gave me a furious look and whacked them out of my hand, onto the tiles. It was dimly-lit in the room and her face looked a little monstrous in the light, but I didn't want to believe that she could be anything but that beautiful little girl I sold flowers to that one day, the beautiful lady I married.

But maybe I would have to.

"I don't want any damn flowers!" she screamed at me, a sob stifled behind her yell.

I lay my hand on the bed and gripped the sheets. She was looking away from me. I felt a sudden surge of anger boiling up inside of me from the pit of my stomach.

I began to think, all she did was scream at me! Every time I came to visit her…I just wanted to see my wife… I even brought her flowers. She always loved flowers. But she just whacked them out of my hand. _She doesn't_ _want any damn flowers_? What was wrong with her? Even with a terminal disease ….

I picked the flowers up off the floor. The petals had scattered all over the tiles - white, red, yellow. Some of the stems hit the end table and cracked. She was still looking away, her eyes flaring. Why was she so angry with me? Was it because I was keeping her alive? Because she wanted to die?

"James," she snarled at me. "James…I…I…" She stopped and glanced to the me, then looked back. Her face suddenly lost its harshness and fell into an expression of despair. I could only look at her with wide eyes. She took a deep breath and began to sob. "I…I'm a monster, James, I… I'm so sorry…I should just die…I'm horrible."

I swallowed, gripping the flowers a little bit tighter. "No," I uttered. My voice sounded hesitant, nervous. But, well, I was. "No, you're not a monster," I told her. "You're not."

Mary gazed at me with her eyes full of tears. I remembered when we were both young, back when she was that young girl I sold cocaine to, back when we met, back when we got married, back to our honeymoon. She reached her arms out for me. "James," she said. "James."

I felt like I was dreaming. This couldn't really be…my wife…

I set the flowers beside her, then reached down and hugged her. She dug her fingers into my back. She was convulsing with sobs. I didn't want her to be crying like this. I glanced around the room. There was no one in the room, no nurses, no anyone. I believe they'd taken the other girl out somewhere. So now… it was like we were the only two people in the world. I..I didn't want it to be like that. I know a lot of people would consider it a good thing, but…I didn't know how I felt. I lifted my fingers up slightly, looked at the little swirls on the phalanges. I wondered if she would be better off dead. But why would I think such a thing? Did I hate my wife? _Did_ I hate Mary? Is that why I was keeping her alive? _Is_ she a monster? Would I…be better off if she was dead? Would _she_ be better off if she was dead?

But, no, I loved her, I loved her, that's why I kept her alive, but-but-but she was suffering so much…should I just…? Would she be better?

"James," she cried, still gripping me tightly. "James, I hate this so much. I'm so sorry, I'm so horrible, I'm a monster, I'm a monster." She swallowed a big gulp of air. "I'm so sorry, James."

I let go of her and looked at her, lying there in the bed. I looked at her, _really_ looked at her. Her hair was falling out, her face was swollen and deformed from the illness, she was crying, no makeup, her eyes looked dead. She did…she did look like a monster, but…what was I saying! She was my wife!

"I'm sorry, James," she said again. "I'm so sorry."

I put my face in my hands. I didn't know what I should do. Mary was still hiccupping in the background. "I'm so sorry," she kept saying. "So sorry." My face was in my hands. I didn't know what to do. What should I do? What should I…

I set my hands down, lay them on my thighs. "Mary," I said. I had an idea. "Mary, close your eyes." The words just came out. I didn't know what I was saying. She closed her eyes. I was shaking. I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know if I should do this. I didn't know if this was a good idea. "I love you, Mary," I said. My hands clenched into fists. The flowers were still on the side of the bed. "I love you."

"I love you too, James," she murmured.

I swallowed. What was I doing? I reached tentatively for the spare pillow by the bed. "I love you, Mary," I worded again. I picked up the pillow. Her eyes were still closed. _It'll be better for everyone_, I thought. _It'll be better for you._ I raised the pillow above her head. I squeezed the pillow tightly. "I love you, Mary," I repeated for the millionth time. "I love you."

"I love you too, James—" she began, but I she couldn't finish saying my name before she started screaming. I pushed the pillow into her face, I wanted the air to stop, I wanted her to stop breathing. I wanted her to die. I'm sorry, but I wanted her to die. She would be happier. I just wanted her to stop suffering. Maybe I didn't know what I was doing, but I still pressed the pillow into her mouth, into her nose. Her screams became muffled. I think she might have been screaming my name, but she might have also not. I pressed the pillow into her face. Her screams got weaker. I pressed the pillow into her face. "I love you, Mary," I said. "I love you, Mary." I pressed the pillow into her face until she stopped screaming. I did it until she stopped screaming and her body went limp. I did it until she was dead.

Then, I took it off of her face. I took it off and set it back by the bed. And I looked at her. She was… so peaceful. I didn't know what I was doing, but she looked so peaceful. I didn't know what I was doing.

I sighed and got up. The flowers were still by the bed. I didn't know what I was doing. Mary was dead. But she was happy, she was happy, I was happy, right? She wouldn't have to suffer anymore. I wouldn't have to watch her suffer.

The lights were still dim.

I ran my fingers across my cheek and turned to leave. I walked to the door. I figured I would tell them that she died. I would come and tell them that her disease had killed her, and they would be sorry for my loss. That's what I would tell them. I sniffled a little, looking back at her limp body, her, horrible, limp, disfigured body. The woman who had once been my wife. I wiped my eyes.

"I love you, Mary," I whispered again. "I've always loved you."

I decided to go back to Silent Hill. I didn't know why, but…I wanted to see it again.

I took my car and drove to the town. They had blocked it off, so I had to go the long way around. It was foggy. I wondered if Mary was there.

I got a letter from my wife. She said she was waiting for me at our special place. I knew she was dead, but could it be that she was really there? Mary…are you really in Silent Hill? Are you really in Silent Hill?


End file.
